


Café hopping

by Grimme



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:00:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimme/pseuds/Grimme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Café hopping has always seem like an artistic hobby.<br/>Also known as one of the top hundred things Kieren wanted to do before he died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Café hopping

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A series of attempts at writing fluff ended up in this. Unedited and probably full of mistakes. Just me trying to de-stress, so please don’t expect too much from this x.x  
> Re-post from my tumblr (abcdefghiwillkillyourfamily.tumblr.com)  
> Comments and criticism welcomed x.x

Café hopping has always seem like an artistic hobby.   
  
Also known as one of the top hundred things Kieren wanted to do before he died.   
  
Well, now he’s dead — not exactly, he’s on his way back, sort of, and even though his heart hasn’t started beating yet, he’s been downing solid food and drinks for a day now.   
Simon, being the ever loving and protective boyfriend, wouldn’t stop talking about bringing Kieren out to the city ever since he found out about it.   
Which is why they’re together on a Saturday morning, taking the earliest bus out to town, Kieren ridiculously excited and Simon ridiculously smug about making his lover ridiculously excited.   
  
"It’s just coffee and cake, I don’t know why you’re so happy about things you can get in Roarton."   
  
"Don’t be like that, come on! We’re going to town! I’ve only ever been there once with my family, and definitely not to go around cafes."   
  
Steve and Sue had been nice enough to give them a bit of an allowance, though it’s probably because they were just really glad that their son’s literally non-existent appetite had come back into full effect.   
  
"It’s not like we’re only going to ever get the chance to come around once; we don’t live that far from the city."  
   
"Are you saying that you’ll bring me there again?"   
  
Simon turned to face the other man at that statement, a brow raised at the mischief that he often found Kieren surprisingly capable of, his lips quirked into a small smile as he shook his head,   
  
"You little monster, you."

  
—-   
Their first stop was a café called The Blue Dandelion - courtesy of Kieren’s enthusiasm for a shop that’s painted a hundred different shades of blue, Simon already feeling a little less happy as he stepped in.   
But then he sees Kieren taking in the whole place with a look of wonderment and suddenly, he’s a little less /blue/.   
"Don’t order something huge, we’re eating dinner out today; gotta save the stomach for that."   
"Yeah, alright…"   
They end up ordering a single cupcake that has so much icing that Simon actually worries whether it’ll upset their body’s delicate healing process with all that sugar.   
Whatever it was, the grossly sweet taste is worth the kiss that his boyfriend gives him right as they step out of the little eatery.

  
—-   
"What are macaroons even made of? Sugar and eggs! And they cost a pound for one! It’s ridiculous!" Kieren huffs indignantly as he walks down the street of bustling cars and busy people, a box of six-minus-one macaroons in his arm, one of them already down his gullet.   
  
Simon isn’t complaining, because it’s actually funny to watch the blond complain about such mundane things - it’s comforting. It’s comforting because Kieren Walker’s an angel kissed by fire, sent to this earth as his saving light; all the rage of ancient Nordic Gods and the kindness of the Messiah in a tiny, stick thin body that’s only barely rebuilding itself again.   
  
And he’s complaining about /macaroons/ of all things.   
  
Kieren’s still complaining about the little snacks when Simon’s done staring at him in utter amazement, and this time, only three of them are left inside the box.   
Simon steals one from the box quickly and almost jumps when Kieren lets out a war cry, screaming “My one pound!” loud enough for a flock of pigeons to get startled away.

  
—-   
The next place they end up at is Kieren’s main course of the day.   
  
"The Chocolate House! Apparently, everything on the menu’s chocolate — we need to get in there, Simon."   
  
And they do.   
  
The little shop house has a vintage effect with dim electrical candles burning in small lamps on each table and rusted wires twirled into various shape and sizes, plastered onto the walls while some others dangled freely in the air, well and safe above the customer’s heads.   
  
Simon thinks it’s tacky. Kieren thinks Simon is too old to appreciate the current styles of youngsters.   
  
"Could I get an Iced Chocolate Bailey’s?"   
  
"And … just peppermint tea for me, thank you."   
  
When the waitress leaves them, Simon turns his attention immediately back to his boyfriend who technically turned legal not too long ago.   
  
"This place is nice." Kieren says abruptly, brown eyes - so strange, so unfamiliar, but a strange and unfamiliar difference Simon definitely could get used to - glancing about the cozy ambience of the shop.   
  
"Quiet, too. Not a lot of people here."   
  
"That’s be cause it’s in the middle of the day."   
  
"True. Not getting cake?"   
  
"Don’t really have the appetite."   
  
"Rubbish, you’re famished."   
  
"Not really a chocolate person…"   
  
There’s a significant pause before the doe-eyed teen replies and when he does, it’s with an incredulous expression that’s mixed between confusion and excitement.   
  
"Are you kidding me? You’re not a chocolate person? Simon, nobody’s not a chocolate person!"   
  
"Well, there’s me."   
  
"That’s ridiculous — we’re getting a chocolate cake."   
  
To Simon’s dismay, they actually do get a lava cake and he watches almost with fear as the top is probed lightly and a fountain of chocolate spews downwards, coating melted vanilla ice cream with a layer of darkness, said darkness making its way across pouty lips, the spoon disappearing into Kieren’s mouth.   
  
"That looks disgusting."   
  
"Don’t say it like that, come on, just a bite?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Not even if I feed you?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Have it your way." He says disgruntledly, then leans forward for a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, taking the raven by surprise for a second before he promptly decides that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t hate chocolate that much after all.

  
—-   
A series of cafes later bring Simon and Kieren to an all-day breakfast restaurant for their last stop, and SImon wants to roll his eyes at his boyfriend’s choice of a place for dinner, but he doesn’t say anything, because, well, he’s a good lover, and he’s definitely not going to control whatever Kieren wants to eat, now that their appetites are back.   
"What’re you going to get?" The younger of the two asks in a tone that obviously shows how ridiculously excited he is that they’re having their meals the other way around.   
"They’ve got this … Norwegian version of Egg Benedicts? It’s just … with smoked salmon. Is that what they do to make creative menus these days? Tweak recipes?"   
  
"It’s what they’ve been doing since people have started cooking, Simon, there’s a word called ‘improvisation’ used to describe that action."   
  
"Fine, fine, I’ll get the Morning Club."  
   
"Which is the Club Sandwich with more eggs. I’ll get the improvised Egg Benedicts."   
  
They make their orders, and Simon’s smiling all the way through, because it’s the first time they’re actually out eating together comfortably, and it’s nice. The quiet buzzing of people all around them stuck in their little bubbles of privacy and small-talking doesn’t go unnoticed by the two of them but for a couple of minutes, Simon’s world revolves around Kieren Walker and everything about the boy-brought-back-to-life.   
  
"Why’re you looking at me like that?"   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Like you want to say something to me."   
  
Simon shakes his head a little, and small part of him worries that he’s being too transparent by baring all his emotions for the love of his life to see.   
  
"I was just thinking that you’re quite beautiful."   
  
"What?"   
  
"You heard me."   
  
"I could’ve heard wrong. Must’ve heard wrong."   
  
"I said that I think you are quite beautiful."   
  
"… Has stopping the shots done something to your head?" He asks in a voice that’s genuinely concerned.   
  
"Kieren."   
  
"No, really, are you oka—"  
   
"I think you look wonderful. I think you are wonderful."   
  
"Okay, okay, anything you say…" He takes out a bulky camera that makes Simon frown instantly before he snaps a quick photo that has his boyfriend stunned, looking absolutely shell-shocked with wide eyes and a ridiculous cup of tea in front of him, ornate with pretty blue flowers lined along white porcelain.   
Kieren grins to himself as he waits for the image to appear, cooing and showing the image to Simon after waving it about for a couple of seconds, laughing as the man in front of him pouted like a child.   
  
Dinner comes and goes quickly, but at the end, Simon’s got a polaroid picture of himself smiling awkwardly next to Kieren who’s shining brighter than the goddamn sun itself.   
After that, as they walk back to the bus stop to catch the last bus, Kieren does actually feel like the goddamn ball of fire that rises in the west and Simon’s only to happy to steal some of that warmth on a cold Autumn night, stealing a kiss just as they get on board.

  
—-   
Simon’s beside Kieren that night, wide awake, his boyfriend barely snoring beside him, the lightweight pressed up against his chest a surprisingly soothing presence even at night.   
  
He wonders why he’s so in love with a walking bean pole that spits sarcastic remarks like its being paid to do so. Why on earth he was willing to do anything just to hear him laugh and talk about silly stories from his childhood.   
  
Then he goes back to thoughts about the prophet, and to his life back when he was technically ‘alive’, how he used to attend Sunday sermons in the crowd in his more urban town.   
  
He remembers something the pastor once said.   
  
'You look at your loved ones the way you look at God because they're the closest thing to him you will see in your mortal lives.'   
  
It’s true.   
  
If he’d thought Kieren was an angel from before, he was utterly wrong.   
  
Kieren Walker was the Messiah himself, borne of love and generosity — he was exactly the kind of person who would give, give, and give, even if he had nothing left.   
There were days that Simon Monroe cursed the fact that he had to fall for ‘The First’, but then moment right in the dead of night, with the slight press against his chest, he suddenly connected the dots.   
  
Kieren Walker was literally the embodiment of the Saviour himself.   
  
An endless supply of selfless giving, packaged perfectly with the innocent looks of a newborn child.   
  
"You’re wonderful." He whispers into the other’s messy bedhead, but then stops for a moment when he feels a light thumping against himself.   
  
Kieren Walker’s heart was beating again.

 


End file.
